


Apocalypse Suite

by lovely_geeway



Category: My Chemical Romance, The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Frerard, M/M, gerard is the rumor, this seems like a good idea, umbrella academy crossover
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-06 22:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18397628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovely_geeway/pseuds/lovely_geeway
Summary: "My father is an alien, and his planet is coming to get his body or they will wage war on Earth! One brother is on the moon, two are in jail, one is talking to our dead dad, oneisdead, and my sister is being controlled by a freak who wants to bring the apocalypse! I have to go!""Oh, shit. Yeah, okay."





	1. Chapter 1

“I heard a rumor,” Gerard said with a coy smile. “That you shot your friend in the foot.” 

Gerard could practically see his words floating in the air as they made their way to the crook, and a hazy look came over the older man’s eyes. Without a moment's hesitation, the crook turned and fired his gun at his compatriot, earning him a spurt of blood and a howl of pain. Gerard smiled, as his part of the job was done, and he looked over to his brother, who was kneeing a thief in his guts. Diego was insufferable most of the time, but he was a good combat fighter. 

“Rumor!” Luther cried, and Gerard turned to see his brother being held by the neck by a thief, a gun cocked by his temple. 

“I heard a rumor!” Gerard shouted over the sounds of fighting inside the bank. “That your gun jammed!” 

The thief scowled and examined his weapon, and the moment of distraction allowed Luther to overpower him and throw him over his shoulder with ease. 

“Thanks, Rumor,” Luther said and adjusted his black uniform jacket, the one that had a white circle on the breast pocket with a thick black umbrella. 

“You're welcome, Spaceboy,” Gerard sighed. “Call Kraken next time you need help.” 

“Whatever,” Luther rolled his eyes. “Five o’clock.” 

Gerard pushed his foot out behind him, tripping an attacking thief, and he crumbled the ground. “Who the hell are you?” The thief yelled gruffly. “A buncha kids?” 

“Hey!” Gerard sneered. “We’re not kids! We’re eighteen!”

“Rumor, now’s not the time,” Number Five snapped as he appeared next to Gerard, and he crushed the heel of his dress shoe into the thief’s head. It made a delightful cracking sound, followed by a squish, and Five looked down. “Ew. Brains all over my new shoes.” 

Gerard scanned the vault, and he saw Diego pushing a thick knife into a man’s chest. “Kraken’s gotten brutal,” he mumbled. “Where the hell is Klaus?” 

“Chill, Gee,” The Séance said and firmly clapped his hand down on Gerard’s shoulder. “I only went away for a while.” 

“Oh, snorting coke, were we?” Diego snuffed as he approached the group, wiping blood off of his tanned face. 

“Nice to see you too, Diego,” Klaus said with a deadly smile. “I love these little family get-togethers. If only Vanya were here, then it would be a real party!” 

“Shut up, Klaus,” Luther sighed. “We have to get out of here before cops show up.” 

There was a loud banging on the door to the vault, and every head turned to see it rattling with the force of a battering ram. “Umm, too late,” Klaus tittered. 

Five popped out without a word, and Gerard grunted at the place where his brother previously stood. Damn him. Luther, Diego, and Klaus all looked to Gerard with expectant looks in their eyes, and he sighed heavily. “God, now that Ben’s gone, I’m the one that bails everyone out,” Gerard grumbled and approached the vault door. “I heard a rumor that the vault is empty and there's no point coming in.” 

“Hey, we got into the surveillance cams!” They heard someone outside the vault shout. “There’s nobody in there! Not even any bodies!” 

“Climb out the roof access,” Luther said. “Diego will give you two a lift.” 

“Why me?” Diego asked. “You’re stronger.” 

“You’re taller!” Luther said. 

“Team effort, boys,” Klaus said. “We have to get out of here quickly.” 

The bickering continued as Diego and Luther lifted Klaus and Gerard out of the vault and onto the roof, and the wind whipped Gerard’s hair around his face. “Oh, fuck,” he said as he looked out over the edge of the bank building. 

“What?” Klaus asked, and Gerard spun him to face the same way. Cameras and news vans were swarmed around the front, and flashes were going off at Gerard and Klaus revealing themselves. “Shit.”

_____

“I trained you all better than this,” Reginald Hargreeves sighed. “To not be detected. And you go and show yourselves on camera!” 

Gerard bit the inside of his cheek in shame, and he looked to Luther. The siblings always let Luther speak on their behalf; they were all exactly the same age, but everyone saw Luther as the oldest and the leader. 

“We didn’t mean for it to happen, Dad,” Luther said softly. “We didn’t know there were news vans and stuff out there. We would have found another way out if we knew.” 

“Number Three,” Hargreeves snapped, and Gerard raised his eyes to him. “Do you like being here?” 

“Yes, sir,” Gerard answered quickly. 

“You do not act like it,” Hargreeves told him. “You did nothing to fix the situation.” 

“What did you want me to do?” Gerard asked quickly. “Rumor the news crews? ‘Oh, there aren’t teenagers on the top of the building! Even the photos you took don’t mean anything!’” 

“Gerard,” Vanya whispered. She was calmest and most level-headed of the six siblings, despite her not actually having any powers. Vanya was a gentle creature that usually Gerard appreciated, but he turned away from her. 

“I don’t want to rumor people!” Gerard said. “Do you know how completely shitty I feel when I make people do these things? I hate myself every day for the things I’ve done!” He paused and looked at his siblings, all sitting in a neat line. “I want out.” 

“Out,” Hargreeves repeated. 

“Yeah, out.” Gerard snapped. “Out of the Academy, out of your life, out!” 

Vanya was staring at Gerard with wide blue eyes, and she looked up to Hargreeves when he cleared his throat. “Then, go,” he said. “You are an adult, I cannot keep you here.” 

“Fine.” Gerard huffed. “Fine! Fuck you!” 

Once in the solitude of his room, Gerard allowed his hands to shake as violently as they wanted to. He knew that, eventually, he was going to leave the Academy, but he never thought it would be the result of a fight. He had had worse fights with his father before, but Hargreeves didn’t seem broken up about him leaving. Gerard retrieved a suitcase from under his bed and began to carefully fold up his clothes and place them neatly in the suitcase. 

“Hey, Gee?” Klaus said softly through the door. “Can I come in?” 

“As long as you have a cigarette to give me,” Gerard said sharply. 

“Of course,” Klaus said, and Gerard opened his bedroom door. “You don’t have to leave.” 

“Oh, Jesus,” Gerard hissed. 

“Mom said you can stay,” Klaus said quickly. “And Pogo said he’d keep Dad—” 

“Jesus Christ, they are not our parents!” Gerard cried. “Hargreeves is an abusive alien piece of shit, and Grace is— Grace is a robot! Our parents didn't want us! They sold us to a crazy old man! How could anyone want us? You talk to dead people, for God’s sake! Holy shit, I’ve wanted to leave for ages. I’m an adult now, I can fucking get out.” 

“Right,” Klaus said rigidly. “Then, I’m coming with you.” 

“No,” Gerard said. “I’m gonna go to college like a normal person and forget about this whole thing. And I need to be alone to do that. I can’t have any reminders of this place.” 

Klaus nodded gently, his wild curls bouncing. “I have something for you,” he said. He reached into his pocket and said, “Umm, Ben gave this to me, before… But I want you to have it.” 

It was a small clay figurine of a monkey-like thing, pink clay wrapped around tan clay with small dots of black clay to form a rather catlike face. “He named her Lola,” Klaus continued. “He told me to take care of her, but… I think you could take better care of Lola.” 

Gerard took the hardened clay figurine into his palm and closed his fingers around it. “Thank you, Klaus,” he said softly. “It means the world to me.” 

“I’ll miss you, ya piece of shit,” Klaus whispered, and he pulled Gerard into a hug. “Call me or something, okay? You don’t have to call Luther or Knives-For-Brains, but Vanya would want you to call her and me. Okay?” 

“I’ll try,” Gerard said. “Hey, umm… I love you. I’ll miss you, probably more than anyone else.” 

“That's pretty gay,” Klaus sniffled, and Gerard finally smiled. 

“Takes one to know one,” Gerard answered. “Hit me up when you finally get a boy toy, alright? I wanna hear all about him.” 

“Will do,” Klaus said. “Do the same for me.”


	2. Chapter 2

“C’mon, Frankie, it’ll be fun!” Ray said with his big, infectious smile. 

“A college party?” Frank asked. “Ray, you do know I’m only 18?” 

“Dude, whatever, just c’mon,” Ray sighed. “You’re always locked up in this dumb bedroom. Live a little! Maybe you can get laid!” 

Frank’s spine grew rigid at this. He hated the idea of having sex with anybody, but especially any of Ray’s art-school friends. He knew that, out of anybody in the world, a couple of New York art students would be most accepting of him, but coming out to anybody scared him. Ray knew, and his mom knew, and a few select people from school knew, but it was a tightly-kept secret: Frankie was legally a girl. Ever since he was little, Frank always liked the more-typically-masculine things. He always had skinned knees and bruises on his legs from trying to roughhouse with the boys at school, and he liked to have his hair shorter at his chin, rather than long and braided like the other girls at preschool. Eventually, there came a time where Frank's dad insisted that Frank was a “young lady” and barred him from wrestling with the boys on the lawn, instead putting him into piano lessons. Frank hated the structure of it. He was forced to let his hair grow out, and he was bullied in middle school for not wearing makeup. “Look at her,” girls would giggle. “Her hair’s always up in that ponytail, and she doesn’t even have on lip gloss. What’s wrong with her? She acts like a boy.” 

Frank was thankful that, at the very least, his body decided to mimic the women on his dad’s side of the family in terms of bustiness; he was barely an A-cup. He could get away with a training bra most days and nobody knew. 

Then, in his freshman year of high school, the school had a speaker come in to talk about drug abuse and how it was bad and the kids should never do it. The person had the softness of a woman in their face, but short hair and a flat chest. Their voice was higher, also like a woman. Because high school boys were rather insensitive, one asked the speaker whether they were a girl or boy. The speaker had given them a soft smile and said, “Sometimes, people are put in the wrong bodies. I was born a girl, but I didn’t like that, so I’m a boy now.” 

Frank went home and googled that shit immediately. Transgender, it was called. Frank finally felt like someone understood. He wasn’t weird or crazy anymore. Other people had thoughts like that. 

The surgeries were expensive, as was hormone therapy, but his mom surprised him for his eighteenth birthday with twelve doses of testosterone; a full year's worth. Frank knew the cost of it and thanked his mother every day for scraping up enough money to do that for him. She took him to the courthouse a week after his birthday and helped him change his name legally to Francis Anthony— his father’s name. Legally, he was still female, because his gender change hadn’t been approved by the state yet, which made for awkward encounters at bars when he was asked for an ID.

Ray was right, though. Even though Frank was four months deep into his T-shots, he was still paranoid that people could tell he was a girl, so he never really ventured outside his bedroom much. He needed to get out and socialize with people. 

“Fine,” Frank sighed. “I’ll go with you to this stupid party. I won’t have fun, though.” 

“President of the No Fun Club,” Ray said and rolled his eyes. “Put on a shirt, let's go.” 

Ray was like a brother to Frank, and Frank was so comfortable around him. They met when Frank went into a record store to buy a Dead Kennedies tape and was helped by a man with short curly hair and thin glasses. This was right after Frank had cut his hair to look more boyish, and Ray has whispered to him that there was a piece in the back that he had missed. Frank was bright red as Ray pulled him behind the counter and snapped off the rat tail with scissors, and he smiled at Frank. “I remember when my brother did that,” Ray said. “It gets better, little man. I promise.” They has been inseparable ever since, and Ray called Frank his brother, despite not being remotely related. Frank was so okay with himself around Ray that he took off his binder and was bare under his shirt around him. Frank loved the freedom of it. 

Frank grabbed his black binder from the floor and quickly put it on under his shirt, and he pushed into his slip-on Vans. “Who’s party is this?” He asked and checked himself in the mirror once more. Acne for days and sparse beard hairs. Great; he was eighteen and going through puberty. 

“Butterhead,” Ray said. Matt was a cool guy that Ray knew from high school, and Frank liked him. It was a shame that his nickname was Butterhead Otter, though. “Some kids from SVA are gonna be there. It’s more of a kickback than a party.” 

“Beer?” Frank asked. 

“Probably,” Ray shrugged. “Stop yapping, let’s go.” 

The “kickback”, as Ray put it, was in Matt’s basement. Matt’s parent’s house had a finished basement with couches and an XBOX, and Frank had spent many nights playing Forza and eating Doritos down there. Matt was there, along with a stringy-haired kid that Frank knew as Bert. A few girls that Frank was vaguely familiar with were there— Lindsey? Chantal? He could never tell them apart— and there was an empty space on one of the couches. “Toro!” Matt cried when he spotted Ray, and he added, “You brought Sweet Baby!” 

“Hey, Matt,” Frank said. “Beer?” 

“Cooler in the garage,” Matt said. 

“Yeah, if Gerard hasn’t drank it all yet,” Lindsey giggled. 

“Gerard?” Frank repeated. Unfamiliar name; new person; and an uncomfortable explanation. 

“Shit, you haven’t met him,” Ray said softly. “Umm, Gerard is nice. He’s a visual arts student, really chill, into horror movies and stuff—”

“Ray!” Frank whined. “I-I wanna go home.” 

“Frankie, calm down,” Ray said gently. “Gerard wouldn’t hurt a fly, okay? He’ll be okay with you.” 

The door to the garage creaked open, and the room fell silent as a man walked in. He wore tight jeans and leather jacket with limp black hair pushed behind pale ears, with an angular nose and bright hazel eyes. He had a bit of baby weight on his face and waist, but he look like a giant teddy bear. He was carrying a can of beer, which he took a drink from. “Why’s everyone fuckin’ lookin’ at me?” He asked. 

“Gerard,” Ray began. “I brought my friend, Frank.” 

“Oh, the Frank?” Gerard asked. 

“What do you mean ‘the’?” Frank asked softly. 

“I told him about how you like the Smiths,” Ray said. “Gee likes them too.” 

Frank nodded slowly. Gerard was only a few inches taller, but he was intimidating as fuck. He looked like he was wearing eyeliner; Frank could never be as cool as he was. “Yeah, Morrissey is awesome,” Gerard chuckled. “Anyway, nice to meet ya, dude.” 

Frank felt a buzzing under his skin. Dude. Gerard thought he was a guy. Or, at the very least, he was pretending. 

The evening progressed. Frank stuck by Ray, becoming oddly wary of Gerard. He was a cool guy, drinking and smoking and leafing through Matt’s extensive collection of Fangoria magazines, and Frank definitely noticed how he kept eyeing him. Usually, when Frank flirted with people (flirted? Yes, they were flirting), he would look away as soon as eye contact was met, but something about Gerard made him meet his eyes over and over. He wasn’t afraid with him. 

Eventually, Gerard got up and sat down on the floor next to Frank's legs, and he angled the magazine up to Frank. “You ever see this movie?” Gerard asked. Frank looked down at the photo spread for _Saw_ , featuring the titular bandsaw and John Cramer’s “body”. 

“Yeah, _Saw_ , it’s a classic,” Frank said. “Torture porn at its extreme.” 

“Alright, what about _The Thing_?” Gerard asked. 

“The 1982 version?” Frank asked and Gerard nodded. “Who hasn’t?” 

“Tell that to my brother,” Gerard scoffed. He reached into his jacket pocket and scowled, and he said, “Shit. Hey, Ray, got a cigarette?” 

“I do,” Frank said quickly. He pulled the crushed-up carton out of his pocket and offered a cigarette to the older man, and Gerard took it with a crooked smoker’s smile. 

“Hey, no,” Matt said swiftly. “You’re not smoking a fuckin’ Red in here. Take that outside.” 

“I’ll come with you,” Frank said. “I need a cigarette too.” 

The air was warm outside as Frank smoked his own cigarette. He watched the dank Jersey street, sparkling with old rain, the streetlight cracked and foggy. Everything about New Jersey was a pain, but Frank loved it. “Frankie,” Gerard whispered and blew out a mouthful of smoke. “Can I call you that?” 

“Sure,” Frank shrugged nonchalantly. 

“Frankie…” Gerard began. “How old are you?”

Frank’s eyes fell down Gerard’s body, looking over him, and he said, “Old enough.” 

Gerard laughed. “C’mon, be real with me,” he said. “I’m twenty-three, if that helps.” 

“Eighteen,” Frank said gently. 

Gerard nodded again. “Got any plans for after high school?” He asked. 

“I have no idea,” Frank shrugged. “My mom wants me to go to college but… I don't know. I’ll figure it out.” 

“I was really lost when I was eighteen,” Gerard said. “My dad and I got in this big fight and I left the house. I haven’t been back since, but my mom calls me a lot. My brother and sister, too, but… They took my dad’s side, so it’s hard to trust them, ya know? I was out on the streets for a while, just doing anything to survive. I drank a lot, did a lot… I ended up trying to kill myself, and I finally called my sister and she talked me down until I fell asleep. She got me back up and going, got me to start doing art again, and…” He shrugged and took a pull on his cigarette. “Here I am. Anyway, I mean, I’m still here. I’m still tethered to the ground, so being lost isn’t a death sentence. I think a lot of people need to be lost in order to find out who they are.” 

Frank nodded. “I went through some bad times when I was younger,” he said. “Nothing like you, but… Umm… I'm trans. I've only recently started on T, and there’s no hope of me going to college and getting surgery. It’s one or the other. It’s depressing, to look in the mirror and feel like an intruder in a body you were given. My dad didn't like me too much from the beginning because I was always a really boyish girl and he didn't think girls should, like, wrestle or do anything masculine. Then, I tried to come out and… He, like, fucking beat me up. Broke a rib; I couldn’t wear my binder for a few months. But, ya know, I haven’t quite found my way yet, and I’m not really sure I ever will. Perpetually lost, like fuckin’ McCandless or something.” 

Frank felt small under Gerard’s alert gaze. He had his cigarette tucked away in the corner of his mouth, and his eyes swept Frank's body. He snorted finally, and he said, “Ya know, if you hadn’t told me you were trans, I wouldn’t have known.” 

“Fuck off,” Frank sighed. 

“No, really,” Gerard said. “I know how proportions work and everything, and you have a softer face like a woman, but that’s it. I couldn’t tell.” 

Frank scuffed the toe of his shoe against the concrete. “Really?” He asked meekly. 

“Yeah,” Gerard said. “I mean, I don’t care about what’s in your pants, only about who you are. Ya know? Everybody always tries to label me or shit, but… My whole life, I was a label. I was a number. I hate labels. I just want to be Gerard. Not Three, none of that shit.” 

Frank had no idea what Gerard was talking about, but he obviously needed to say it, so Frank listened. “Sounds tough,” Frank mumbled. 

“Yeah, no shit,” Gerard huffed. “I've always been in my siblings’ shadows. Ya know I have six siblings? There’s seven of us. Well, six of us, ever since Ben died, but… My dad subscribed to that weird ‘let us pick our own names’ thing, and we all chose names by the time we started school. We grew up being called numbers. It was infuriating, so dehumanizing. I just… Holy hell, I'm just glad to be away from that.” 

Frank nodded. “That sucks, man,” he said as he finished his cigarette. “But hey— Gerard’s a pretty stellar name.” 

“Thanks,” Gerard said. “So, uh, you and Ray are cute. How long have you guys been together?” 

Frank chuckled. “Ray’s not my boyfriend,” he said. “He's my brother— practically my brother, anyway. He was the first person to use masculine pronouns unprompted. I didn’t have to tell him, he just knew. His brother was female to male too, so he knows how to deal with it.” 

“Ray’s a good friend,” Gerard said. “We roomed together our freshman year, and he was always— always— on that guitar. Never had a girlfriend, nothing like that. Always just him and his guitar. I wish I was as devoted to something like he is to that.” 

“Your art?” Frank asked. 

“I mean, yeah,” Gerard shrugged. “I wanna write comic books and stuff, but I'm devoted to that. I want something to be passionate about, something that makes me wake up in the morning and not immediately reach for a drink. I just… Fuck. Sometimes, I wish I was happy for once in my goddamn life.” 

Frank looked down at Gerard’s pale hand, flinching at his side at every word. Without a sound, Frank snaked his hand out of his hoodie pocket and laced their pinkies together, and Gerard looked to the small boy with a softer look in his eyes than before. “I get it,” Frank said. 

Gerard turned to better face Frank, and he pulled the cigarette from his mouth. “You’re a cool guy, Frankie,” he said. “Hit me up, yeah?” 

“Sure,” Frank said. He pulled out his phone and offered it to Gerard, and he heard Ray call for him from inside the house. 

Gerard pushed Frank’s phone back into his pocket and looked down at their still-intertwined hands, and he lifted Frank’s hand to his mouth and flipped it palm-up. Frank's heart plummeted into his stomach when Gerard carefully pushed up the sleeve of his hoodie and kissed the small scars on his wrist, and, when he next spoke, Gerard’s voice was lilting, rough and sexy but magical and irresistible. “I heard a rumor that you don’t self-harm anymore,” Gerard said. “Okay?” 

Frank nodded. Something about the earnest look in Gerard’s amber eyes made him agree to it and, more than that, actually want to keep his agreement. “Okay,” he whispered. 

“Frankie,” Ray said as he opened the glass door. “I have to go, I just remembered I have work tomorrow. You wanna stay here, or come with me?” 

Frank looked at Gerard, finishing his cigarette, and he looked back to Ray. “I need to go home too,” he said. “It’s late, and Mom’ll flip shit if I'm not home before sunrise.” 

“Cool,” Ray said. “See you tomorrow, Gee?” 

“Sure,” Gerard said. “‘Member what I said, Frankie-boy, alright?” 

It was with that nickname that Frank decided that he was completely and hopelessly in love with this grungy artist. “Yeah, sure,” Frank said. Ray nudged past Gerard to get out of the house, and Frank lingered next to Gerard for as long as he could. 

Quickly, Frank rested his hand on Gerard’s shoulder and rose up on his toes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’ll text you,” He squeaked, then scurried away to Ray’s car.


End file.
